


So It Goes

by MidnightGardener



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, death is just the beginning, mortality is fleeting, we are just energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightGardener/pseuds/MidnightGardener
Summary: In death they find freedom.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: All and More (18+) Kaysanova Gift Bag 2020





	So It Goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sal_si_puedes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [sal_si_puedes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes) in the [All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> 1) Aqua
> 
> 2)  
> \- a quiet moment alone  
> \- skin  
> \- a lost bet
> 
> 3)  
> \- I would love to read a fandom version of the deleted scene in the church we only have that one photo of - one of them (I think it was Joe?) coming back from a surveillance run? I would really love to read what you think happened in that scene.  
> \- a/b/o heat or/and rut sex... Give me all the slick, the knot, the messy (multiple) orgasms, the need, the craving, the desperation. Go full force nuts on that one. (No preference who's a and who's o.)  
> \- Major Character Death (as in *permanent* MCD) - make it very, very angsty. I know that that's not everyone's cuppa, but I LOVE a good MCD fic... (No preference who dies.)
> 
> 4) DO NOT WANT: genderbend/genderswitching, daddy kink - and I think that's it. I'm a pretty easy lay, hehe!! ;)  
> 

The ritual is simplistic.

Almost too simplistic perhaps for a lifetime (multiple lifetimes to be specific) filled with such heroic achievements. 

But there is to be no pomp or circumstance for this funeral rite.

They know the temptation to invoke an ostentatious celebration of life t is strong, but their instructions were always clear and to the point. To ignore them would be to show disrespect at the highest level. They of course know there is no fear of retribution from the afterlife, especially after such an intimate experience with death. However the adoration held for the fallen is what ensures the actions remain true to their decree of humility and simplicity.  
They know that any ceremony is really just to provide closure for those that live on. It has no consequence for those that make the decision to move on to the next plane of existence. 

It is unlike Andromache’s request to leave her where she fell. She asked to be left to the elements; for the earth she had walked for so many millennia to reclaim her for itself. Allowing her to reunite with those that she had lost, with those that had left her behind. There was to be no further remembrance. 

And so it is behind a modest cottage on the outskirts of Kalkara, overlooking the south eastern Maltese headland, the ceremony of life begetting death takes place.

They watch as two lone figures stand before a shallow hole dug into the reddish clay soil. Within it is nestled a small urn intricately carved many centuries before, purely for this moment that they knew would one day come. They are intimately familiar with the curlicues etched into the soft sandstone, their fingers had traced each curve over the hundreds of years committing the patterns to memory. Inside however instead of ashes lies two silver rings. In life they had celebrated a precious union like no other before or since. In death, they symbolise a love which transcends the mortal world. Now they will be buried here, entwined together until the very end of time itself.

Silence hangs heavy, broken only by the crashing of the waves on the rocks below and the cry of circling gulls.

There are no words left to be said.

They watch as the two kneel and begin to cover the urn with the loose soil. Their fingers are stained with a slight rouge, captured beneath their nails and streaking their jeans as they brush their hands clean.

As they both stand, they reach for leather scabbards laying on the ground, and draw the swords they sheath.

One holds a broadsword between two hands, hefting it aloft. The early evening sunset has miraculously peered out from behind the grey clouds that earlier had threatened a thunderstorm. The last rays of light catch the steel which has been polished to an intense sheen. Hands shift on the hilt, fingers repositioning to balance the weight of the weapon.

Standing opposite, the weapon’s twin mirrors these actions. The curved blade catches the refraction of light. Soft brown eyes capture blue ones staring back holding unshed tears, but they’ve cried enough. The tears will be held for another day, another time.

And as the sun slips lower, and the orange glow gives way to the deepening violet of night, the blades meet symbolising the providence passing to their new caretakers.

“Nicolo.” Booker’s voice is soft, barely audible.  
“Yusuf.” Nile responds, holding her gaze.

From nowhere, and everywhere, Nicolo di Genova and Yusuf Al-Kaysani feel released as their very essences intertwine. As they were joined in life, they are now joined in their newly found eternal freedom.  
They are forever bound to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm all for MCD, and it was going to be angsty but then I just couldn't let one go without the other.


End file.
